Pit Dogs
by Darkness mind
Summary: Arenas are a big entertainment for humans. Watching as two people fight to the death, or in this case two Zoanthrope's fight. Watch as your favorite characters fight to the death and hopefully stay alive. No pairings yet.


A weird thought popped into my mind as I read a few fan fictions on Bloody Roar. I thought to myself "Gee why don't we twist up the plot a bit and change some things around?" So this story, which is a working process I don't even have a grand idea for is being created. Hopefully you guys and gals will enjoy this story as we both try to uncover the mystery. 3 years on hiatus from this site and I feel the urge to write.

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own Bloody Roar or the characters that are used. Hudson owns the rights.

* * *

**Pit Dogs**

**By: **Darkness Mind

**Chapter One: **Enslaved to entertain

Imagine a world were arenas still tower over major cities. The screaming cheers of fans as they watch their favorite fighter battle it for the sake to live. The clashing of metal against metal as swords danced in the air. The out cries of loved ones watching as their son, husband, daughter, or friend lay lifeless on the floor. Well my friends this world is real. Arenas carved from the finest of stones tower in the middle of cities. People gasp and awe out at the wonderful design of two lions sitting on a platform roaring out in victory, the carvings of warriors on the side of the arena telling stories of famous heroes raising up to fame, while those who have failed die in pain.

On the side of the entrance there is a paper that has names of fighters and what time they will be fighting. Next to the names reads "Standings", which is used for people who wish to place a bet. Inside the arena while still holding to old traditions has been upgraded. Two wide screen TV's are placed at the end of each side. The front row of the arena is protected by glass so that the crowd will not get hurt from any on coming attacks, and also to keep the rows clean of blood. In the middle of each row holds a room where only special guest can stay in. This room is filled with top of the line drinks, food, and furnisher. Comfy chairs placed in front of a wide window giving the viewer an excellent view of the fight, and a phone that is placed in the middle of these chairs in case the person wants to make a bet.

Now an arena this big must have great fighters, otherwise they will sink and become a lost memory. Fighters that can rise to the challenge and please the crowd at the same time. Having skills in fighting but also personality. Fighters that are not afraid to die and are brave even when the end is near. Fighters that are not human but monsters. Not free but are slaves.

What fighters dare I speak of? I speak of but one kind of breed that can live through this hell hole, Zoanthrope's, also known as beast men. Rejected for their power and shunned for their ways these folks were hunted down and enslaved to the arenas. Even in an age were almost everything is accepted in life Zoanthrope's are denied any right. It was also a way for the government to get rid of these people legally, by having them fight to the death. Each week these poor people are forced to please a blood thirsty crowd by killing their own kind. What is worse is that if both fighters are morbidly injured the crowd then decides if one lives and one dies, or if they both die because they failed to please them.

A horrible way to life and the living conditions are none the better. For under the arena is where the fighters live. In a damp cold room where the smell of death chokes new comers. Each fighter is assigned to a cramp cell with one cot that included an itchy wool blanket and a flat pillow, a toilet that looks like a science experiment, a sink, and only two sets of clothes. One for training and one for fighting. Most of the uniforms are hand me downs from fallen fighters. Blood stains the armor as if reminding them that they could be next.

These fighters know that everyday could be their last, whether it be from being killed in battle or dying from an illness these people work hard to stay alive. Alive to see another day alive to see another fight. That is what an arena fighter is all about. As the roar of the crowd echoes down to what the guards call the Blood Room each fighter waits patently. Some pace around the small cell while others pray to god, and some like a quiet tiger mediate to clear their thoughts. Ignoring the sound of feet stomping against the ground, the pacing of a leopard, the words of a rabbit talking to a wolf, the heavy breathing of a lion, the soft cries of a half-beast while a mole reassures them, the giggling of a chameleon as another tiger grunts at them, the soft mumbling from an iron mole.

Pushing these sounds back he images himself standing near a mountain watching as the birds fly by his cave. The soft breeze lightly brushes against his skin causing a slight shiver to run down his spine. A soft roar of water rushes down a nearby water fall creating natures music to his ear. The man was no longer sitting in a cramped cell. He was no longer fighting for his life, or to please the crowd. He was at this moment free to roam around the forest of Japan. To enjoy the sights, sounds, and touches of nature. For a brief second he forgot where he was and smiled a soft smile. That was before one of the metal doors that led out to the arena crashed open. Making most if not all the fighters jump from shock.

There standing in the door way stood a man about five foot seven wearing a black business suit and white dress shirt. The suit was followed by black pants and black shoes that have been recently polished. His body size was that of a man who knows to keep in shape. His hair was short and combed back to give him a mafia look. The color of his hair was a striking sliver that seemed to complement his face. The mans eyes were hazel and sharp, almost as if he was looking into your very soul. Though this man was about forty four not a wrinkle was on his face. His face was smooth looking and he had a goatee to match it up.

His name is unknown to those that work with him and to those that he enslaves, but both sides have different names for him. Those that work with him call him "Boss" while those that are enslaved call him "Death". Death seems to fit more then Boss and it amuses him. There was a brooding look on his face as he made his way down to the cells. Humming a song out loud so that everyone can hear. It was his way to entertain himself by humming different songs and it was also a small hint as to what kind of crowd the fighters were dealing with. Songs that were slow meant that today's fight was going to be an easy fight. An easy fight meant that the crowds will be easily pleased with anything as long as someone dies. Songs that were upbeat meant the opposite. The fight was going to be hard since the crowd demands more then just a fight, and that the chances of both fighters dying was great. Today's tone to everyone's relief besides the man was slow.

His footsteps echoed as he passed by each cells. He walked slow enough so he can analyze each fighter. The looks that was given to him was hate and fear. Hate for being enslaved and fear for the thought of being picked. His footsteps stopped and everyone's hearts began to race while they held their breaths. Death was about to announce who was going to fight. "Today the crowd wants to see a show. They don't give a damn whether it is crappy or great. They just want to see two freaks fight to the death. So let's please the crowd with this." His eyes looked over at a cage which held a scared looking boy. Tears fell from his face as Death smiled at him. Pointing his finger he said with an evil smile "You boy are going to fight." The boy cried out in fear as the other fighters roared and hollered in anger. Some were shouting "You damn bastard!" while other said "Leave the kid out of this!" It was chaos before the guards charged in blowing whistles that the normal human ear could not hear. But to a Zonathrope it was a high pitch whine that could cause some to go deaf.

As the room slowly fell silent excluding a few moans and mumbles Death looked at the boy again. His voice was hard as stone when he spoke out loud. "This boy will fight since I say so! You freaks don't have a say in anything! This boy will fight-" his eyes scanned the room again before landing on a girl pacing around the cell. His smile broadened as he pointed to her and said "This boy will fight her!" A cry of doom and fear was heard from the boy as he looked at his competition. She was older then him, around twenty one to be precise. The boy knew the girl somewhat and has heard stories that she was a great fighter. He has heard her fight above ground, watched as the blood of those that she has killed drip down his cell wall. He has heard her name countless times over the loudspeakers. Shina Gado the leopard.

Her pace stopped as her brown eyes locked onto the man that was pointing at her. They then slowly fell to the cell that the boy was sitting in. A frown fell on her face as she looked at the boy scared of his upcoming doom. To fight a child just to entertain humans was something that didn't bode well with the warrior. Returning her attention to Death Shina spoke with confidence and leadership. "I will not fight this boy. He is too young and I do not believe in killing a child." The boy's eyes widen as he heard her speak while the rest of the group cheered and clapped. She was defending him protecting him from death. Though sadly they both knew as did everyone else that it was useless in the end. The man would force them out of their cells anyways and have them fight to the death.

But it was the courage and protection that made the boy feel safe.

The man glared daggers at Shina as the group of fighters continued to cheer and clap. Shina returned the glare with her own to show that she was not backing down. A human and a Zoanthrope were now in a heated eye lock that no one could seem to break. It was a battle between both in proving who was strongest in wills. The seconds felt like minutes as the sound of the impatient crowd stomping their feet yelling were drowned out by this silent match. even the guards were quiet as the battle continued. After fifth teen seconds the man finally shouted out "Drag them out by their hairs! I will not be told who I can and can't fight! If the boy wins give him extra gruel. If the girl wins beat her within an inch of her life!" He then pointed at Shina again while shouting out "I control you! You belong to me! I'll teach you, you son of a bitch not to give me lip! Open the gates get them out of here!"

Following orders the guards unlocked both the boy's and Shina's cell door. Grabbing both by the hair they didn't care if it caused them pain or annoyance. One of the guards tugged on the boy's hair causing him to cry out in pain since the tug was hard enough to almost rip his hair out of his roots. The other guard dragging Shina laughed before copying his friend. As the gates slowly opened the boy and Shina were separated. The guard holding the boy turned right as the guard holding Shina turned left. They were now heading to the arena entrance.

Those that were left behind shook their heads and mumbled out "Poor kid." A few of them wept knowing that the boy was not coming back. A man with one eye just closed his good one while lowering his head. He was proud of the fact that his daughter defied Death's orders, showing him that the control that he claims to have is nothing more then just a lie. Looking up he slowly opened his eye before speaking out. His voice was like that of his daughters but lower and rougher. It was still a voice that caused everyone to fall silent. "Though it is sad to know that his life is near an end let us remember that he will be in a better place. Weep not for his death but for the fact that he will be better off then we will." Each Zoanthrope gave out a small nod. The room fell silent for a few moments. The sounds of the fight, the cheering, and the stomping were muffled by the sound of remembrance and morning. A man's voice finally spoke up to break the silence. "You sure know how to speak to us when we're down Gado." The old lion smiled at the young man. "And you know how to ruin moments Yugo."

The sound of a roar erupted through out the Blood Room. It was then followed by the cries of a child. Everyone fell silent as they waited for the victor to be announced. The crowd cheered, booed, and stomped their feet as a voice boomed over the loud speaker. "Oh and he is down! Bet his mommy isn't too proud of him to just lose like that! Well anyways folks you knew she was going to win yet you just wanted to watch her kill, ya sick people some of you are. But hey who am I to say? Give it up for the one the only Shina Gado!" The crowd erupted in a chorus of cheers and boos. Another fight another life taken. Such as the ways it is in the arena.

* * *

Whew that took longer then I thought. Heck that's the longest chapter that I've written, and it's only chapter one! Well like I said it's a new idea twisting things around. Hopefully you guys and gals like this chapter. Read and review if you would please, and as always flames are welcomed. Cheers to you all!


End file.
